


Customary Exchange

by rosecake



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Alien Marriage Rituals, Aliens Think They're Married, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-24 19:43:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20019982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/pseuds/rosecake
Summary: Bringing Philippa along is always more trouble than it's worth.





	Customary Exchange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [capeofstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/capeofstorm/gifts).



Michael was uneasy as she waited for Tilly to join her on the transporter pad. Sarek had first pressed the importance of thorough preparation on her when she was still very young, and his lessons had only been reinforced during her training at the Academy.

Sadly, their current circumstances didn’t allow for the sort of heavily detailed research she was accustomed to. The _Discovery_ desperately needed supplies, crystals and raw materials that they’d confirmed this planet had, and at the moment that was all that mattered. A quick scan of the planet’s surface had confirmed that nothing in the air or water was toxic to human life, and the locals didn’t seem particularly belligerent, so the mission was set in motion.

Her mood only got worse when Philippa sauntered in, dressed in dark, casual clothes with a bag slung over her shoulder.

Michael closed her eyes and took a deep breath before opening them again. “Where’s Tilly?” she asked as Philippa stepped onto the transporter pad beside her.

“I convinced her to switch assignments with me,” said Philippa, smiling, and Michael felt a surge of sympathy for poor Tilly.

“And why would you do that?”

“We don’t really know anything about this planet or its people,” she said, smiling wide enough to flash her teeth. “I like a little uncertainty sometimes. It keeps things interesting.”

“We’re not beaming down into a war zone. Tilly and I are more than—“

Philippa rolled her eyes and waved a hand in Michael’s face as she interrupted her. “You and Tilly would spend too much time worrying about first contact protocols to get anything done,” she said. “Besides, it’s already been cleared. Tilly’s going to help with the asteroid mining, so you’re stuck with me.”

Michael sighed and hoped she wouldn’t have cause to regret going along with it.

\---

According to the translator, the planet was called Millori by the people who lived on it. _Discovery_ had run bio-scans, and Michael had selected the most diverse port city she could pinpoint to beam down to, but even so over eighty percent of the population was made up of the planet’s native species, and the remainder were aliens from races she didn’t recognize. She and Philippa stood out, and while the locals weren’t looking at them with hostility, they were definitely looking.

Philippa trailed behind Michael as she walked, speaking with whatever people looked friendly, not saying much. That was probably for the best. Philippa could be charming when she wanted to be, but she didn’t always want to be, and Michael would just as soon not insult anyone before they’d gotten their bearings.

They’d been so quick to beam down that the universal translator hadn’t quite gotten all the subtleties of the local language, but the translations got clearer with every person she spoke to. They all told her the same thing: that they needed to talk to the _Milloriscanservaen_.

By the time they made it to the large, white building towards the center of the city, the computer had managed to work out that _Milloriscanservaen_ translated to, more or less, the Millori Port Authority.

There were several desks in front, all underneath a large, metal sign letting them know that this was the Iscarver branch of the planet-wide port authority. They waited in a short line in silence before a Mirolli behind an open desk waved them forward.

The Mirolli agent blinked its inner eyelids and then looked Michael and Philippa up and down. “Planet of origin?”

“We’re from Earth,” said Michael.

She didn’t think anyone here would recognize the name in this system so far in both space and time from her own home, and in a way that made things easier. She didn’t have to worry about accidentally being on the wrong side of any politics.

The Mirolli blinked again, head tilted slightly to the side on its long neck. “Where’s that?”

“Far,” said Michael. “It’s in the Orion Arm. About twenty-six thousand light years from galactic center.”

She doubted the translator was going to be able to make much sense of that, unless the computer had picked up the local terminology while she hadn’t been paying attention. The Mirolli titled its head a little further, before snapping it back upright.

“Whatever,” they said, apparently deciding they really didn’t care where Earth was. “Did you already apply for permits?”

“Ah, no,” said Michael. ”We were just hoping to get some supplies for—“

“You have to have a permit to bring anything for trade on planet or take anything you get off planet.”

Michael sighed. “Okay,” she said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Philippa attach slip something under the desk. “How long will it take to get a permit?”

“A standard permit is fifty meekin and takes about a month,” said the agent. “An express permit is a hundred and it takes about a week.”

“Wonderful,” said Michael. She didn’t know if a hundred meekin was a lot of the local currency or not without checking her pad, but at the moment they had exactly zero meekin, so it didn’t really didn’t matter. “We’ll be back to apply later.”

Not only did she not have any currency, she also didn’t plan on being on this planet for more than a few days. They’d have to figure something else out.

“That bug you planted,” she said, once they were clear of the building and she didn’t think anyone could overhear them, “did it work?”

“It did,” said Philippa, looking down at her pad. “The computer’s got access to their database, the program should put together a decent forgery for us in a few hours.”

“Great,” said Michael. The people around here were space-faring, but fortunately most of their technology lagged behind Federation standards. Luckily that included network security. “Now we just need to find someone willing to do business with us.”

\---

Michael’s talks with the merchants of Iscarver didn’t go any better than their trip to the Port Authority.

“None of these people are going to give us what we need,” she said, rubbing her temples. Once they’d finished asteroid mining _Discovery_ would have plenty of raw materials, but some parts they just didn’t have the resourced to manufacture on their own. Not after their last fight in the past had left the ship so badly damaged.

Sadly, nobody seemed interested in trading for raw materials. They wanted currency, which Michael didn’t have.

“You really expect people to just help you, don’t you? Just because you asked nicely?” Philippa sounded far more amused at the thought than she had any right to be given that she was in the same situation as the rest of them. “You’ve spent too much time in the Federation.”

“And what would have us do instead?”

“The ship’s phasers are still in working condition, aren’t they? And this dump doesn’t have much in the way of planetary defense systems. Open all channels and make demands. You’d have everything this planet could provide within an hour.”

Michael rubbed her temples again. There was a pulse behind her eyes, and if she wasn’t careful her headache was going to turn into a migraine. “You spent too much time in the Empire.”

Philippa shrugged. “Maybe so. At any rate, I’m done for the day,” she said. “Do you want to find a hotel?”

Michael didn’t much feel like wandering around the city all night, but they had a while to go before the _Discovery_ was going to swing back around for them. Michael wished they’d flown down a shuttle instead of beaming down, but they were short on functioning shuttles at the moment.

“What makes you think a hotels is going to let us stay for free? We still don’t have any currency.”

“Oh, I found some while you were busy trying to talk to people who weren’t listening,” said Philippa, holding up a wallet that wasn’t hers.

Michael closed her eyes and slowly counted to three inside her head. “Go give that back to whoever you stole it from.”

“How? I can’t tell any of these people apart. Can you?”

Michael couldn’t. “The last thing I need is for you to get us arrested for pick-pocketing on a planet we know nothing about.”

“This isn’t the Federation, Michael,” said Philippa. “You need to adapt to your circumstances.”

They argued about it for a few blocks, and by the time they find a hotel Michael found she was too tired to keep arguing the same point over an over. She let Philippa talk the Millori at the front desk, and smiles and sweetness, and when they get to their room she wished she’d done the talking herself.

“This is too much,” she said. Philippa had gotten them a suite, and the living room was massive, with floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the port city below. The rooms was painted in soft blues and grays, with massive black screens covering various walls, and everything in it looked expensive. “How much cash was that person carrying in their wallet?”

“A lot, apparently,” said Philippa.

Michael walked through to the bedroom, and of course despite the size of the place Philippa had gotten them a suite with only one bed in it.

“You could have gotten something smaller,” said Michael. “We could have spent the rest of it on supplies.”

“It was the only room they had,” said Philippa, in the careless tone of voice she used when she was lying and didn’t really care if Michael knew it. “Besides, the bed is huge. We could

There never was any use in arguing with her. Michael took the couch, still larger and softer than nearly any bed she’d ever slept in, and she was asleep in minutes.

\---

When she woke up, Philippa was already drinking something at the kitchen table.

Michael tried blinking the sleep out of her eyes. “When did you get up?” she asked. Philippa was dressed already, and Michael found it a little unsettling that she’d managed to get herself ready for the day without waking her. It didn’t speak well to Michael’s sense of awareness.

“A few hours ago,” said Philippa. Her hair was down, spilling over her shoulders, and disheveled from sleep in a way that made her look deceptively soft. “I decided to let you sleep in.”

Michael looked out at the windows and saw the sun already rising in the sky. She tried to remember what time that would make it locally. Still early, probably. The place had long days this time of year.

“And what were you doing in all that time?” Michael asked, a little suspicious. She didn’t like it when Philippa was left unsupervised.

“Trying to learn more about the local culture,” said Philippa, smiling as she raised her pad. She was reading the local news. “They sure do have a lot of crime around here. It’s all police raids and gang murders.”

“I don’t suppose there’s anything in there that might be helpful?” asked Michael. She took a sip of Philippa’s drink - a little bitter, but not terrible. She poured herself a cup as well.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” said Philippa, her eyes gleaming, and Michael felt a touch of concern.

\---

“I’ll meet you back at the hotel in a few hours,” said Philippa, her hand glancing across the small of Michael’s back, and by the time Michael turned around to ask her what she was doing Philippa had already disappeared into the crowd.

Michael cursed, and spent the next few hours on her own, too busy seething to make much progress on tracking down what the _Discovery_ needed to patch itself back together.

When she got back to the hotel, later than she’d meant to, the Millori at the front desk flagged her down.

Michael was fairly sure it was the same person who’d checked them in. “Yes?” she asked, hoping something hadn’t gone haywire with their payment for the room. “The police came by,” they said. “They’ve got your partner down at the station.”

\---

Fortunately for Michael, Millori was civilized enough to have public defenders.

“You can’t talk to her,” said the attorney. They looked a little hassled, like every other other public defender she’d ever seen. “Only family are allowed contact until she’s processed.”

Michael considered that, and thought back to what they’d put on their forged permits. They were the only two humans anyone here had ever seen, it shouldn’t be too difficult to convince someone they could be related. After all, an alternate version of her _had_ been related to her. Years ago and in a completely different universe.

As it turned out, she didn’t have to convince anyone of anything. “Oh, she’s the partner,” interjected a clerk. They held up a copy of Philippa’s permit, probably the only identification they’d found on her.

“Oh, well, if you’re married that’s fine,” said the attorney.

Michael bit down on the inside of her mouth to stop the reflexive denial. What the computer forgery had taken to mean _business partners_ must have meant _marital partners_. “That’s right,” she said, trying for a friendly, honest smile. “She’s my wife. Has she asked for me?” Hopefully Philippa hadn’t said anything that would contradict the misunderstanding.

“She’s not saying anything,” said the defender, and Michael’s translator only barely caught the muttered _thank heavens_ under his breath. “I thought she was alone.”

She’d get all that sorted out later. Right now she just needed to figure out what Philippa had done.

\---

The cell they were keeping Philippa was practically an antique, metal bars and everything. Philippa sat against the back wall, her legs crossed and her eyes closed. She didn’t open them until Michael was right up against the bars.

“You were supposed to wait at the hotel,” she said.

“Until nightfall when you still weren’t back yet? You look inordinately proud of yourself for someone who got caught.”

“Such little faith,” said Philippa, still smiling. “Right now I’ve got a bug attached to their network, downloading all their files, and once the computer’s done I’ve got my own exit strategy.”

She held out her palm, and nestled in it was an explosive plasma charge. “They really need to do a more thorough job searching people,” she said.

And Michael had no doubt now that Philippa didn’t need her help getting out of prison, but she couldn’t see how that escape could avoid doing a frightening amount of damage. If nobody died on Philippa’s way out it would be sheer luck.

“Put that away,” snapped Michael. “We’re not launching a prison break. The ship can beam you out once they’re back. You’ll survive a few days in holding cell.”

“Did they tell you what you brought me in for?”

“Assault,” said Michael. Why Philippa had decided to start a fight with some locals in broad daylight, she had no idea.

“Yes, that’s what I’m sure those men told the police,” said Philippa. “They couldn’t bring up the money I stole, because then they’d have to explain where it all came from. And I’m sure smuggling is taken a bit more seriously around here than street fighting.”

Michael let her head rest against the bars of the cell and sighed. “If you started something with the local underworld you’re probably better off in here anyway.”

“If I wait around in here for too long somebody will find the bag I stashed, and then this whole trip will have been a waste of time.”

“It’s already—“ started Michael, before deciding she didn’t want to waste her energy on pointless arguments. “You know they only even let me in here because they think we’re married?”

“Oh, yes,” said Philippa. “The clerk at the hotel thought the same thing. I think that’s why we got the one bedroom.” “Why— You know what, it doesn’t matter. Just give me a few hours before you blow anything up.”

“No promises,” said Philippa.

\---

“Usually I’d tell you a level four assault charge is too serious for bail,” said the lawyer, “but none of the people she was wailing on stuck around to give statements, so the prosecution’s got some problems. I might be able to get her released pending the tribunal on her case. You’re her wife, so you can agree to take responsibility for her.”

Michael didn’t much like the thought of taking responsibility for anything Philippa did, but it wasn’t really anything new. She was the one who’d brought her over from the Empire, after all. Every thing she did was Michael’s responsibility.

“Wonderful. How long will that take?” “Probably by the end of the day,” said the attorney. “But we’re going to need proof of the marriage for that.”

“What? I thought he permit—”

“I mean, that’s fine just to visit her. But you’re going to need actual proof of the relationship if you want to bail her out.”

There was always something. “What kind of proof?” Michael asked. “We’ve got a certificate, of course, but those records are half a galaxy away. By the time I went home and came back she’d be done with her sentence already.“

“I mean, we’re pretty open here,“ the attorney said, shrugging. “Joint ownership papers, shared passports, pictures of the ceremony. Matching scars from the blood exchange. Any proof at all.”

Michael shook her head, and the attorney sighed, its eyes blinking rapidly. “There’s always some kind of customary exchange. What is it your people do?”

“Where we’re from it’s usually an exchange of jewelry,” said Michael, sighing. She felt guilty lying, but under the circumstances she’d find a way to live with herself. “We had rings, but we were robbed a few systems back. They cleared us out of everything we had. That’s why we’ve been so hard up for money recently.”

The Millori looked sympathetic, which only cut at her conscience. She should have come up with a less maudlin story.

“That’s fine. You can just get married again here, then nobody will be able to contest it.”

\---

Marriage was a two-step process on Millori. First they signed the paperwork, and then there was a confirmation. They give her several options for the confirmation: public consummation, organ exchange, and matching marks.

Michael refused to let Philippa know that the first was even an option. The lawyer seemed to think the second option was best, given that they were the same species, but after a while she was able to convince him what a terrible idea it was.

So she told Philippa they were going to get matching marks. “Scars, brands, or tattoos,” said Michael. “I’ll let you pick.” It didn’t matter which one Philippa picked. All three of them would be easy enough to remove once they were back on the ship.

“Tattoos sound romantic,” said Philippa, smiling broadly. She seemed to like the idea of it. “Let’s do those.”

“Fine,” said Michael. “Since I’m going through the effort of marrying you to get you released, I have a request in exchange. You can consider it a dowry if you like.”

Philippa slid her hands through the bars, crossing them across Michael’s back and pulling her flush against them. “Anything you want, my love.”

“You’re not going to kill or maim or otherwise injure another soul on this planet,” said Michael, trying not to let Philippa fluster her.

“Fine,” said Philippa. “But I get a request, too.” Michael sighed. “Alright” she agreed “What is it?”

“I’ll tell you later,” said Philippa.

\---

Philippa played it up for their small audience of witnesses far more than necessary. They were pretending they were already an established couple, after all, not besotted newly weds.

“We’re getting matching rings, right where our old rings were,” she said. Michael smiled and went along with it. Philippa surely could have picked a less conspicuous placement for a tattoo, but it’d be removed soon enough.

The reptilian with the tattoo gun practically cooed in response. “That’s so sweet,” she said, reaching out for Philippa’s hand.

She held Michael half in her lap while the band was inked around her finger, and then kept her arms wrapped around Michael as Michael got hers.

Michael tried to concentrate on the inking of her hand instead of the soft warmth of Philippa’s body pressed against hers, but it was difficult. She’d expected the tattoo gun to sting, but the numbing agent they’d used was strong, and the heavy black line across her ring finger appeared as if the artist was simply drawing it on with a paint brush. She rubbed the mark with other hand as Philippa signed her release paperwork, wondering how long it would take to get feeling back.

It hurt worse when they put the tracker in her. One went in Philippa, to make sure she didn’t go missing before her tribunal; one went in Michael because she’d agreed to be responsible for her. They wouldn’t interfere with the transporter, though, and they wouldn’t be hard to remove once they had access to the Discovery’s medical facilities.

So when they stepped out into the street, hand in hand like any normal pair of newly weds, they were free.

\---

They picked up the bag Philippa had stashed on the way back to the hotel. And Michael didn’t like where the money had come from, but that didn’t change the fact that it was going to make their mission a whole lot easier.

“I’m glad that’s over with,” said Michael, and Philippa dropped the bag to the floor without letting go of her hand. “We can stop pretending now.”

“Who said we’re pretending?”

Her mouth was on Michael’s before she could say in anything in response, hard and demanding. By the time Philippa let her go she was too breathless to respond, too disoriented to protest when Philippa pulled her to the bedroom. She fell backwards onto the bed with Philippa on top of her.

“You promised me something in return, right?” said Philippa, unzipping Michael’s pants as Michael tried to remember how to speak. “I want a real wedding night.”

Michael should have told her no, but she didn’t. Instead all she managed to do was stutter through an _okay_ as Philippa pulled her pants down. Philippa slipped her hand in between her legs, and her breathless gasping turned into a moan. 

When Philippa pulled her hand back her fingers were shining, slick with Michael’s arousal, and she smiled as she licked wetness off her fingers, her tongue sliding against the new tattoo.

“We’ve got to go through the Earth traditions too,” she said. “Otherwise it doesn’t count.

\---

“Aren’t you going to get that removed?” Tilly asked, gesturing towards Michael’s hand.

“Yes,” said Michael. She’d meant to do it first thing, but she’d gotten distracted. There was still so much that needed to be done around the ship. “Eventually. I just haven’t had the time.”

Tilly looked at her strangely, because they both knew the tattoo would take less than minute to remove, and didn’t ask about it again.

It was just that Philippa hadn’t had hers removed yet, either, and Michael hadn’t quite gotten up the courage to ask her why. And, for some reason she was having trouble explaining to herself, she didn’t want to be the one to have it taken off first.

Maybe if she didn’t spend every other night in Philippa’s quarters it would be easier, but she was still having trouble explaining that part of the relationship to herself as well.

One of these days she would. Philippa was a scorpion, and that hadn’t changed. Even if whatever affection she felt for Michael was genuine, it didn’t extend to the rest of the crew, and it certainly didn’t extend to a respect for all sentient life. It was going to blow up eventually.

In the meantime, though, Michael was going to keep the ring.


End file.
